Never Sit Down in a Hoopskirt and Other Things I Learned in Southern Belle Hell

by Crickett Rumley

  One time when I was in the tenth grade, I was allowed to go to a coed school, and there was a really cute boy there, Hank Mayers. We dated for a bit and had a good time, and on this field trip our class took to Atlanta we took our relationship to the next level. No, not that level. We snuck out in the middle of the night and went down to Little Five Points and bought beer with fake IDs and drank it on the corner. Then we went and got tattoos together.

  I woke up with a hangover and the image of Cartman from South Park inked on my shoulder, just under where my bra strap goes. Hank woke up with a heart and JANE FOREVER on his arm. Sadly, we didn’t last another twenty-four hours. The next day we were both kicked out of school for sneaking out in the middle of the night, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

  Only later did it dawn on me that Luke Churchville was ace at imitating Cartman, and had even made the character part of his e-mail address: cartmanluke@hotmail.com.

  Gosh, I hope Hank lasered my name off and got another girl’s put on.

  Needless to say, the Cartman on my shoulder did not go over well. Miss Dinah Mae fussed about how in the world she was going to sew the off-the-shoulder neckline high enough to cover the tattoo. Mizz Upton turned a peculiar shade of green when she saw it, then tersely eeped, “Let’s have a chat later, Jane, why don’t we?”

  Then Miss Dinah Mae took everybody’s measurements and informed us we’d be selecting our embellishments (Magnolia-speak for ruffles and ribbons) and be assigned our dress colors the following week—whoop-de-doo-doo! Then she’d get busy making our gowns, for which we would be required to do at least two fittings, probably more, given that we all had these body abnormalities, and a final dress check. Quel joy.

  To my surprise, Brandi Lyn stayed after orientation to “chat” with Mizz Upton as well. What had she done wrong? She was so Magnolia-happy, how could she possibly be thrown in with the likes of me? Mizz Upton called Brandi Lyn and me over to sit with her in the living room. She put on what I’m sure she thought was her most sympathetic face. “Now, girls. I have been thinking, and while it greatly pains me to say this, I believe y’all might want to reconsider your commitment to the Magnolia Maids.”

  Brandi Lyn furrowed her brow. “I feel very committed to the Magnolia Maids. One hundred and ten percent.”

  “She wants us to quit, Brandi Lyn.” I aimed my most unsympathetic gaze in Mizz Upton’s direction. “And Mizz Upton does not hate saying it. Not one bit.”

  Blinking rapidly, Mizz Upton tried to paint a portrait of politeness on her face. Not that it worked. “Now this is exactly what I see as your personal challenge, Jane. Magnolia Maids are the epitome of Southern grace and femininity. And your behavior and attitude so far, well, we would be kind to say that it merely lacks those qualities.”

  “But Mizz Upton, I’ve been nothing but sweet today, right, Brandi Lyn?”

  “Um, sure. And you were so nice to me the other night when I was fainting and all. It was sweet of you to try to catch me!”

  Mizz Upton raised an eyebrow. “What was that little altercation with Ashley then?”

  “Oh, she was so offensive, Mizz Upton! She asked Zara if she bought her way on to the Court. Then she insulted Brandi Lyn and her boyfriend. I had to say something!”

  “This is one of the things that concern me, Jane: you’re unpredictable. You say what you think.”

  My brow turned into one giant furrow. “Excuse me, ma’am, but isn’t that a good thing? Shouldn’t we young ladies be encouraged to say what we think?”

  “Well, no, Jane, that’s just it. You’re no longer a young lady, you’re a Magnolia Maid.” She threw her hands into the air. “See, this is where it’s become obvious that leaving Bienville has had a most negative impact on you. Those outside influences, they have diminished your respectability in ways that I just can’t combat. Your clothes, your tattoo, the fact that you’ve been expelled from so many fine institutions—honestly, I will never understand how in the world that got past the judges! It is so clear that you are unpredictable and uncontrollable and absolutely not fit to be a Magnolia Maid!” She calmed herself down for a millisecond. “I saw you trying to behave today, I did, but it’s a case of too little, too late. I simply cannot send you out into the world not knowing what’s going to come out of your mouth at any given moment or what kind of inappropriate situation you’re going to get yourself into. It would reflect badly on me and the entire Magnolia Maid Organization.”

  She sighed deeply, leaned forward, grasped my hand, and painted another portrait of faux sympathy on her face. “It’s not your fault, though, dear. If your mother were alive, if you had been raised properly, I’m sure you would be a young woman of much higher caliber. Everybody’s saying so.” She gave my hand a pat.

  A “you don’t belong here” pat.

  A “nobody wants you” pat.

  A “you poor thing” pat.

  I just stared at her hand in shock. And when she removed it, I continued to stare at the skin she had touched, a mass of emotions and thoughts scurrying through my head. I’m not good enough. Leaving Bienville has ruined me for all eternity. I’m not high caliber, and everybody knows it. Everybody knows it? Everybody was saying it? Of course they were! Behind my back! It suddenly dawned on me—every encounter I’d had since I got back, every time that someone said how wonderful my mother was or asked me how I was doing, they were just looking for something to gossip about! Of course they were all judging me. They were watching and waiting for me to mess up in public so that it would give them something to talk about. I was part of the show. Mizz Upton was just the first one to let me know.

  Meanwhile, Brandi Lyn blinked tears from her eyes. “But Mizz Upton, ma’am, what about me? Why should I reconsider my commitment?”

  “For one thing, your personal style is just a wee bit bolder than what we consider appropriately feminine.” Mizz Upton took both of Brandi Lyn’s hands in hers and continued. “And being a Magnolia Maid is also a very expensive proposition, dear. I am concerned that you might not be able to afford the investment we expect of our girls.”

  “But I’ve already thought about that! I’m planning to take on extra shifts at the Krawfish Shack, and my boyfriend, JoeJoe, said he’d help me, and Momma and Daddy, they’re gonna chip in!”

  “And that is so generous of them! But Brandi Lyn, I feel so guilty about the toll that seven-thousand-dollar dress is going to take on your family.”

  Brandi Lyn whitened. “Seven… Seven thousand dollars?” Funny how the cost of the dresses wasn’t mentioned—not even ONCE—during the entire course of orientation and competition.

  “Oh dear, didn’t you know? I would think that anyone who tried out would know. Isn’t that just common knowledge?” Mizz Upton quickly repressed a flash of a grin and placed a “well-meaning” hand on Brandi Lyn’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you just feel terrible if they lost their house or a car over this? I just don’t think it’s the right choice for your people.”

  Now I’m sure Mizz Upton thought she would just deliver her pronouncements and that would be the end of Brandi Lyn and me giving her a giant Magnolia headache. What she could not have expected, though, was that Brandi Lyn Corey would be so devastated by the news that she would immediately erupt into a volcano of hysterical lava, spewing tears and hiccups all over the place.

  “Nnnnnnnot be a Maid? Not be a Maid?! But I, I’ve worked so hard! I already sacrificed! It’s… It’s a key part of my five-year plan! I can make this work! I know I can!” Brandi Lyn wailed even louder.

  “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, honey,” Mizz Upton said. “It’s good form to resign when asked to. Just go ahead and write your resignation letters before we get too much further into the training. You can send them care of Mr. Hill at the chamber of commerce.” She got to her feet and dismissed us with a sliver of a smile and a truckload of condescension.

  We didn’t move. Brandi Lyn continued to bawl, and I, well, I was frozen solid with a dark
, angry hurt that had invaded every cell of my being. Fine, they didn’t want me? I wasn’t good enough for Bienville? Great. I would go home right that very minute and craft that letter like nobody’s biz-nass.

  But there was something about people wanting me to fail that bothered me. If Brandi Lyn and I resigned, they would win. Mizz Upton would win. Ashley could claim victory. It would serve as proof that we weren’t good enough, and I was NOT ready to accept that judgment yet, no matter how rebellious I was. No way was I going to let Mizz Upton and Ashley beat us out so early in the game. No way.

  Instead, I was going to invoke another version of the Southern belle. They wanted a Magnolia Maid? Fine. They’d get one.

  A steel one.

  “Mizz Upton, I do so hate to say this,” I said, dripping my sweetest drawl onto every word. “But Brandi Lyn and I regret that we are unable to resign at this time.” I stood up and pulled Brandi Lyn to her feet.

  “Excuse me?” Mizz Upton looked horrified.

  “We do?” Brandi Lyn gaped at me.

  “We do. Brandi Lyn, she’s trying to scare us. She can’t make us quit.”

  “This is no scare tactic! I am doing what is best for the organization.”

  “Well, I have a hunch that the Jaycees and Mr. Walter Murray Hill would have quite a different opinion. They elected us to the Court, what, three nights ago? I don’t think that they would be so happy to hear that you are strong-arming poor innocent girls into believing they aren’t, in your personal opinion, good enough, when the judges clearly decided we are.”

  “Don’t you dare talk back to me, Jane Fontaine!”

  “Fontaine Ventouras. I’m sure you recall that my mother—gasp!—married a non-Bienvillite, Cosmo Ventouras? And with all due respect, I’m not talking back, Mizz Upton. I’m just saying that we’ll leave when the Jaycees themselves invite us to leave. Until then, we’ll be showing up for any and all rehearsals and other events that you have planned for us. Come on, Brandi Lyn.” I put my arm around her and led her out of the house, but not before Mizz Upton got her last word in.

  “Fine. But I am filing probation reports first thing tomorrow. And if you don’t follow every single rule, meet every single expectation to a tee, I will have you out of here before the first magnolia blooms at Boysenthorp Gardens, so help me, God!”

  “You’re so brave. Oh my stars, Jane, you were so brave back there.” Brandi Lyn and I were still in the middle of our grand exit, me walking a mile a minute in my John Fluevogs, Brandi Lyn teetering along as fast as she could in her Payless specials. “I never could have said what you did. I wanted to, but I couldn’t do it.”

  “Yeah, well, this is my specialty: bringing authority figures to their knees.” I sparked up my first cigarette since the day’s activities began. “Jesus, what a bitch! You didn’t deserve that, Brandi Lyn.”

  “Well, thank you. You’re so sweet. But please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain? Are you for real?”

  “The Ten Commandments are.” We were in Bienville, Alabama, for God’s, uh, goodness’ sake. Of course she was for real.

  “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

  As we brought our speedy grand exit to a halt, Brandi Lyn put a hand on my arm. “Jane, that’s terrible what Mizz Upton said back there. About your mother. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize until today that she had passed.”

  “Thanks, Brandi Lyn.”

  “It must be hard.”

  Brandi Lyn’s bright blue eyes grayed over with compassion. It wasn’t the “lost little lamb” look that I had just learned was one hundred percent fake. It was so real, that expression in her eyes. And I didn’t feel obligated to respond, to pretend, to decree, “I’m fine, everything’s okay.” Brandi Lyn never knew my mother. She just knew me. She cared about me.

  All of a sudden I felt the warmth of her hand melting the icy fury that had been flowing through my system. A river of rushing rapids piled up behind my eyes, and two slow, quiet streams escaped down my face.

  Quick, Jane, I thought. Change the subject before you flood the entire neighborhood! Yes, yes, that was a very good idea indeed. But first I took Brandi Lyn’s hand in mine and squeezed it—tight—and nodded. She squeezed back and pulled me into a hug that seemed to last forever.

  Not so good for flood control. Not at all.

  I took a deep breath or twenty-five thousand, then slowly extricated myself from Brandi Lyn’s embrace. I took a shaky drag off my cigarette. “So, um, tell me, what in the world is a five-year plan?”

  Breathy with excitement, Brandi Lyn informed me that a five-year plan was this really amazing thing where you thought about what your goals in life were and how you were going to achieve them with a series of well-thought-out deadlines and mini-goals! She had perfectly mapped out her life for the next five years:

  1. Get selected for the Magnolia Maids. Gain valuable travel and cultural experience.

  2. Earn full scholarship to the University of Alabama’s journalism school just like Selma Andrews had. (I knew who Selma Andrews was, right? The news anchor for CNN? She was Brandi Lyn’s hero. Well, Selma had gotten her start at Bama on a full scholarship before going to journalism school at Columbia, and BL wanted to follow in her footsteps.)

  3. Build résumé with sorority and club membership, at least five a year. Take key leadership position in at least two extracurricular activities per year.

  4. Make honor roll each semester. Graduate summa cum laude. (To which I responded, “Wow. You’re smart!” and Brandi Lyn humbly replied, “I’m blessed.”)

  5. Intern each summer at a radio or television station in order to build exposure and contacts.

  6. Get first reporting job at a local news station in a small, probably Southern market.

  Brandi Lyn stopped there because she had reached the five-year limit. “I’ll have to assess my progress about halfway through, of course,” she said.

  The thought of so much industry and planning gave me a headache. I lit yet another cigarette. “You’ve thought that far ahead?”

  “You have to set goals, Jane, if you’re going to achieve anything in life.”

  “Me, I can’t think beyond, like, ten minutes from now.”

  “Let me help you with that! I just love brainstorming and planning and figuring out ways to achieve goals!”

  “Uh, sure. I’ll let you know when I feel like getting my life on track.” I puffed again on my cigarette. “But how ’bout you and me work on a five-week plan instead?”

  “That’s a good start! What do you want to do?”

  “Declare war on Mizz Upton.”

  “War!”

  “Not shoot-a-gun, fire-a-cannon kind of war.”

  Brandi Lyn was baffled. “Then…?”

  “A war to be the most perfect Magnolia Maids ever!”

  Brandi Lyn sighed with relief. “Well, that’s obvious. Of course we want to be the best Magnolia Maids we can be, right?”

  “You do. But I’ve only just now decided to.”

  “So why’s it got to be a war?”

  “Brandi Lyn, Mizz Upton’s going to be after us now. You heard her say it, right? She’s declared war on us. If we’re going to make it through, we’re going to have to be not just good Magnolia Maids but perfect Magnolia Maids. Fight fire with fire. And to do that, you and I, we’re going to have to change. We need a makeover.”

  “I don’t mind change! Change is good. And I love make-overs!”

  I laughed. “Someone in B’ville who believes in change? Thank Go—goodness.”

  “Thank you, Jane.” Brandi Lyn waved at someone over my shoulder.

  I turned to see JoeJoe pull up in his perfectly maintained monster of a Ford truck.

  “This makeover idea sounds great! Now I’ve got to get home and work on my finances. Honestly, I thought the dresses cost about seven hundred dollars, not seven thousand! My goodness! I’ve got some thinking to do!”

>   She hopped up into JoeJoe’s truck and greeted him with a big kiss. She was about to shut the door, when suddenly I got an idea. “Hey, Brandi Lyn! Will you come to the Episcopal Church with me on Sunday?”

  She gasped in delight. “Oh, Jane, you have a church home? I’m so happy for you! I’d love to!”

  I watched the truck kick up dust as it sped off. Now that’s a sweet girl, I thought.

  Chapter Seven

  I flopped down, exhausted, at the dinner table and laid there like a gravy-soaked biscuit. “I need some money.”

  Grandmother raised an eyebrow. “More than your allowance?”

  “Whatever it costs to get a tattoo lasered off.”

  Grandmother raised the other eyebrow. “You have a tattoo?”

  “On my shoulder, right exactly where the back of my dress has to come down, and Miss Dinah Mae is having a conniption fit over it.”

  “I don’t recall signing any sort of permission form saying that you could get a tattoo.”

  “You don’t need one when you have a fake ID.”

  “Remind me to search your room for it tomorrow.”

  I laughed and dove into the roast beef and mashed potatoes that Charisse had whipped up for us. So much better than boarding school barf-a-roni.

  “Other than that, how was your first day?”

  Hmm. How was my day? What should I actually tell her? Under normal circumstances, I would go ahead and confess all. Tell her exactly what had happened, that I was in serious Magnolia Maid danger and that Mizz Upton had declared war on me and Brandi Lyn and that I had declared it right back. After all, Grandmother knew every bad thing I had ever done to get kicked out of boarding school. None of this would be news to her. It would seem like just another notch in the old bad-girl bedpost.

  But she was so thrilled that I had been selected for the Court, so delighted that I was following in the footsteps of a long list of Fontaine women. No doubt she would be deeply upset if I told her what had happened. She would be on the phone with Mizz Upton, Mr. Walter, the chamber of commerce, the higher echelons of Bienville government, anyone affiliated with the M&M Organization in about two seconds flat demanding to know why I had been treated this way. Did I want to stir up that kind of trouble? Jane B.M.M.—before Magnolia Maids—would have leapt at the opportunity to up the drama quotient. But Jane A.M.M.? I couldn’t do it.